"You're thinking of what he said about little Gerty."
"Well, she an't the only one. That's what made me speak of it now, but I've often noticed it before, particularly since I went away from home, and am only here once a week. Now I think everything of Mr. Bray; and when I was telling how much good he did, and how kind he was to old Mrs. Morris and her sick daughter, grandfather looked just as if he didn't believe it, or didn't think much of it."
"Oh, well, Willie, you mustn't wonder much at that. Grandpa's had many disappointments. You know he thought everything of Uncle Richard, and there was no end to the trouble he had with him; and there was Aunt Sarah's husband—he seemed to be such a fine fellow when Sally married him, but he cheated father at last, so that he had to mortgage his house in High Street, and finally gave it up entirely. He's dead now, and I don't want to say anything against him; but he didn't prove what we expected, and it broke Sally's heart. That was a dreadful trial to father, for she was the youngest, and his pet. And just after that, mother was taken down with her death-stroke, and a quack doctor prescribed for her, and father always thought that did her more hurt than good. So that he has had a great deal to make him look on the dark side now, but you mustn't mind it, Willie; you must take care and turn out well yourself, my son, and then he'll be proud enough; he's as pleased as he can be when he hears you praised, and expects great things of you one of these days."
Here the conversation ended; but Willie added another to his many resolves, that, if his health and strength were spared, he would prove to his grandfather that hopes were not always deceitful, and that fears were sometimes groundless.
Oh, what a glorious thing it is for a youth when he has ever present with him a high, a noble, and unselfish motive! What an incentive to exertion, perseverance, and self-denial! Fears that would otherwise appal, discouragements that would dishearten, labours that would weary, opposition that would crush, temptation that would overcome, all, all lie powerless, when, with a single-hearted and worthy aim, he struggles for the victory! Persons born in wealth and luxury seldom achieve greatness. They were not born for labour; and, without labour, nothing that is worth having can be won. A motive Willie had long had. His grandfather was old, his mother weak, and both poor. He must be the staff of their old age; must labour for their support and comfort; he must do more:—they hoped great things of him; they must not be disappointed. He did not, however, while arming himself for future conflict with the world, forget the present, but sat down and learned his Sunday-school lessons. After which, according to custom, he read aloud in the Bible; and then Mrs. Sullivan, laying her hand on the head of her son, offered up a simple, heart-felt prayer for the boy—one of those mother's prayers which the child listens to with reverence and love, and remembers for life.
After Willie went home that evening, and Gerty was left alone with True, she sat beside him for some time without speaking. Her eyes were intently fixed upon the white image which lay in her lap. True was not the first to speak; but finding Gerty unusually quiet, he looked inquiringly in her face, and said—"Well, Willie's a pretty clever sort of a boy, isn't he?"
Gerty answered "Yes" without, however, seeming to know what she was saying.
"You like him, don't you?" said True.
"Very much," said Gerty, in the same absent way. It was not Willie she was thinking of. True waited for Gerty to talk about her new acquaintance; but she did not speak for a minute or two. Then looking up suddenly, she said—"Uncle True, what does Samuel pray to God for?"
True stared. "Samuel!—pray!—I guess I don't know exactly what you're saying."